The Museum of Ice Cream: My Experiential Awakening

I grew up thinking I’d open an ice cream shop called “I Scream You Scream We All Scream for Ice Cream” and remember giggling at the ridiculous idea of someone having to pronounce the shop’s name in a casual conversation.

“Hey you feel like some ice cream? We should check out that new spot on the corner!”

“You mean I Scream You Scream We All Scream for Ice Cream? I love that place!”

Pure comedy to 10-year-old me. I used to draw the layout of the store and coloured in lime green stools at the bar, neon pink romantic booths by the window, and scribble orange soda dispensing from the water fountain in the corner.

Now I’d probably select a classier name for my ice cream bar like California Creamery and decorate the whole place like my one trip down highway 100 mixed with that scene from Big Hero Six where Baymax and Hiro fly through the sunset sky.

For my 12th birthday, my two friends, younger sister and I were allowed to order The Kitchen Sink Sundae from The Flashback Diner in my hometown Barrie, ON. That place was the best. The booths were sparkling red and royal blue. Murals including ones of Marilyn Monroe, the Three Stooges and Elvis plastered the walls. They served classic greasy breakfasts on white wide oval plates.

The Kitchen Sink caught my eye every time I opened the laminated menu. You could order 16 scoops of ice cream, topped with whipped cream, maraschino cherries, chocolate AND caramel sauce all in an ACTUAL KITCHEN SINK. There’s a group photo somewhere in a photobook of us 5 girls sitting with both fear and awe in our eyes and spoons in hand.

You get it. I like ice cream! My dentist can agree, my mouth is filled with cavities, and while that might have something more to do with my deviated-septum-mouthing-breathing situation than my love of ice cream, the point remains. For the longest time, my Tinder bio was even “I’m really great at puns and eating ice cream”. I was looking for someone as sweet as me!

So when I stumbled across the Museum of Ice Cream photos on my Instagram feed at age 18, I became obsessed. A place purely built of the wildest candy land dreams of children. The perfect red and pink colour combinations and instagrammable decor. A place you were literally just expected to go and enjoy.

Me with one of the unicorns who live at the Museum of Ice Cream in SF.

I didn’t actually go until I was 20 and visiting my silicone valley long-distance ex-boyfriend in San Francisco. I’m pretty sure I bought my MOIC tickets before my plane tickets. I thought about my outfits for days before I attended. I looked at all the photos of other attendees. I convinced my friend to let me borrow the professional camera from the undergraduate society for my trip.

Me in a sprinkle pool. If you’re familiar with MOIC, you may have see that they made their sprinkles much bigger. They made this change after the city of SF noticed plastic sprinkles creating microplastic waste in the surrounding neighbourhoods.

My ex didn’t really want to go, but even with that grump by my side, it was one of the best days of my life. I got to jump in a literal sprinkle pool. I tried every ice cream treat at each stop. I felt like I was friends with the employees. I swear there were probably sparkles in my eyes the entire day.

Soon after the trip, long-distance got the best of my relationship but a life-long love for immersive experiential spaces was born. The Instagram algorithm quickly learned these types of places would impress me on my timeline. I noticed a trend of my internal enjoyment metres flying off the charts when I saw an art installation, an incredible concert set design, a thoughtfully set up escape room, and museums that took unconventional routes to bring in visitors. Nothing, not even a classic scoop of cookies and cream, brings me the same excitment as spaces that reimagine and push the boundaries of bringing people together.

Jumping off an egg at Salt Lake City’s Hall of Breakfast.

At first, I thought it was all about taking nice Instagram pictures and having a good time. Now, I realize it’s so much more than that. These spaces are built to inspire and promote creativity. They give people a chance to escape the endlessness of our digital world and instead connect with people in real life. They transport you in a way that only your childhood imagination once did. These experiences are silly, creative, and promote a sense of awe, all like ice cream seemed to inspire me to do growing up. That’s pretty sweet (pun intended).

Having just turned 25, finished an undergrad degree in politics of all things, and feel completely lost in my career goals, the answer is clear when I look back on my life. It isn’t just a love of ice cream, but a true appreciation for the things that bring us joy. If these feelings can be provoked in experiences, I want to help them come together.